Page 58 of Dead Wrong

With a turn of the knob, the fixture began to run, steam rising immediately from the stream of water. I reached down, plugged the drain, then worked on disrobing. The heavy disguise fell to the floor, pooling around me, and I shivered as I stepped out of its warmth, my feet bare against the frigid tile. I removed the blood-stained tunic Cirian had lent me next, then the rest of my tattered clothing, piling them all in the corner.

The numbing sound of the rushing water did little to calm the chaos of my mind. Mother had captured Bastien, but to what end? Was she aware of the connection between the two of us? Was I the reason that Bastien had been taken in the first place? Another sacrifice he’d be making on my behalf… they were starting to pile up like the laundry.

Carefully, I stepped down into the tub, blessed relief rolling over me as I sank lower into the nearly scalding waters. A few minutes later, I shut off the stream, exhaling a long sigh as I settled against the curved wall of the tub. The sapphire-like Anima stone that Cirian had created lay on the edge of the basin—I wanted to keep it close, just in case—and after a moment in the water to cleanse the lingering stains, I marveled at how the edges caught the light.

Magic thrummed from within the facets, and as I held it, a familiar tugging sensation pulled at me in the direction of the closed door. Was the stone drawing me towards the one who made it? I let it slide from my hand, settling once again on the tiled ledge.

After some much-needed decompression, I reached for the bar of soap at the edge of the bath, working it into a rich later with the help of the warm water. I started with my legs, scrubbing away the caked-on dirt of our nocturnal traipse about the woods and wincing as the suds touched the plethora of minor scratches and scrapes on my calves and ankles. As I worked over the other parts of my body, the surface of the water became obscured with bubbles. Once my arms were free of grime, my hands drifted down my torso, and I jolted as my fingers brushed against the base of my cock. It responded instantly, stiffening.

Even in the impossible situation I found myself in, the baser needs of my manhood would not be ignored. With the time to reflect and the rapidly growing urge to wrap my fingers around my cock, I couldn’t help my thoughts from drifting back to Cirian and the newly resurfaced memories of the dozens of rendezvouses we’d had after our sparring sessions.

If the worst should happen, if I was going to die a second, even more gruesome death, this may be the last moment of self-indulgence I would be afforded. And so, I decided not to squander it.

The suds clinging to the surface of the water obfuscated my body underneath, making it all the easier to imagine my hand was someone else’s as it wrapped around the base of my cock. A tingling sensation shot up my spine, causing my toes to curl as I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to drift once more to memories of silken sheets and supple skin, of hitched breath and soft groans, of two becoming one, transcending to something more.

Before too long, I could feel the heat building at the base of my spine as my legs began to quake with anticipation of what could be my final climax, and I pushed forward toward the edge of the precipice, waiting to topple over into?—

The door of the washroom opened abruptly, Cirian stalking in and shutting the door behind him.

I was stunned into immobility, merely staring at him in shock as my hand was frozen around my cock beneath the surface of the cloudy water.

Cirian didn’t say anything as he began to strip his clothes off, tossing them to the side and flexing his back in a stretch as he stood in front of the sink, observing himself in the mirror.

“What are you doing?” I finally choked out, my ruined orgasm evaporating like water on a scalding pan.

Cirian turned to look at me, and I quickly averted my eyes. “I’m getting ready to bathe,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing. “Move over.”

“I most certainly will not,” I told him, pulling my knees to my chest in an effort to hide my exposed body. “Get out. You can bathe when I’m done.”

He moved closer, but I still refused to look at him. “Oh, grow up, Toto. We don’t have time for this nonsense. Are you really that bashful? I assure you that I’ve already seen all there is to see.”

“Fine, then I will leave,” I said, trying to gain purchase on the slippery tile.

“You still reek of the grave,” Cirian argued, sliding one foot into the water, then the other. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you get that close to the Cardinal without a thorough scrub down.”

“I smell fine,” I argued, hugging my knees closer as the lower half of his body sank into the tub opposite me. There was more than enough room for the both of us to bathe and avoid contact, but the realization did nothing to help the fluttering in my stomach. “You’re torturing me. I know how you are. You’re enjoying watching me squirm.”

“I seem to recall you enjoying the squirming as well,” Cirian fired back, pulling his long hair back and tying it with a restraint.

Now that he was partially submerged, I found I could look at him without wanting to immediately combust. “Enough. I don’t want to discuss our past dalliances any longer.”

“I can respect that,” Cirian said, sounding rather rational. Then again, it wasn’t rationality he typically lacked. It was compassion. “However, you do still smell, Tobias. I’m not fabricating that detail.”

“I’ve already washed myself,” I muttered, feeling more embarrassed than when I was only worried about exposing my body.

Cirian let out a sigh, straightening his posture and patting the surface of the water in front of him. “Come here, Toto.”

“I’d rather die again, thanks.”

“I’m serious. I need to make sure you’re not going to blow your cover before I put you in close proximity to the Cardinal. Now, please.”

I hesitated. Was this the first time he’d said ‘please?’ Once again, I forced myself to look him in the eye, expecting a cruel confidence or twisted enjoyment to be staring me back. But when I locked eyes with Cirian, all I found was an earnestness that caught me off balance.

“Okay,” I agreed after a moment, in no hurry to leave the safety of my corner. “Close your eyes.”

“How am I supposed to clean you if I can’t see?—”

“Just for a moment,” I cut him off, fighting the urge to splash him. But that might disturb the layer of obscurity that was protecting my modesty, so I pushed the urge away.

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